After days of wrenching and tweaking, I finally got my bike ready for a longish ride on Great Divide style terrain. The best place for this style of riding has got to be the Haul and Control roads. So I drove to Oracle. I smiled yesterday as I lifted my bike onto the car, realizing that this was the first time I’d put my bike onto my car, despite owning it and riding the crap out of it for 3 months.
I had planned the ride to be solo, so hadn’t really thought of including anyone else on it. But as I was driving I realized at should stop at the Barr’s place, say hello, and leave my car. Anne was home, and after a nice visit I rolled out of their driveway around 5pm.
I was riding the full setup — all my camping gear, H-bars, GPS. You name it, I carried it. I also carried more LED lights and batteries than I’d care to admit. It’s hard to find real darkness anywhere near Tucson, but out in the San Pedro Valley, it’s dark.
I started things off on the good old Arizona Trail. It is one of the easier / more fun sections of the whole trail. But even it has bushes that grab you, thistles to dodge and, gasp, hike-a-bike. After I scratched my arm and pushed my bike up a short hill I muddled under my breath, “I won’t be missing this on the divide.” Not that there is anything wrong with getting scratched or hiking. I’ve just had my fill on the AZT. I thought it was ironic, though, that this was one of the easiest sections with some of the best trail conditions.
I dropped out to American Flag ranch and then kicked it into high gear on the highly graded Control Road. I’m flying and watching the scenery move around me. I really do love riding scenic dirt roads. The sky was blue and high clouds sat motionless around me. I miss this, I miss being outside all the time.
Ever since comitting to the Great Divide Race I have been questioning the decision. Is this something I really want to do? Should I worry about taking something I love and turning it into something unpleasant? I don’t know, but a portion of my doubt was silenced as I pedaled at high speed down the Control Road.
Out of the saddle climbing with the H-Bar was fantastic. I got into some nice rhythms around some of the switchbacks. I just kept riding–for two and a half hours, actually. I didn’t even unclip out of my pedals. I ate bars from my goodie bag and tanked water to combat the dry air and the ounces of fluid I was losing from my nose. I’ve been having unbelievable allergies for the past couple days.
I kept climbing past the mine until sunset (as indicated on my GPS). Then I stopped to adjust my H-bar and lights for the descent. The bar was pointed a bit too far down for my taste and was starting to tighten my back.
I blasted down the bumpy road without lights for longer than I expected. Once lit, I was pleasantly surprised at how fast I could ride on unfamiliar, rough ground. Still, even with double HID lights I never really feel 100% in control. But given the weight and simplicity of my system I was quite happy with how it was working out.
Rabbits and foxes crossed in front of me at high speed. The strangest thing was that I had multiple bats fly out in front of me, just inside the halo of my lights, then proceed to skim the surface of the road as they matched my speed. Pretty cool.
I only saw one group of cars on the Haul Road. As they approached I moved my head lamp at them to be sure they saw me, but I was ready to dive off the road if necessary. As they approached the lead pick-me-up truck started honking. Oh, great, I thought. Here we go.
The guy asked in a Mexican accent, “This way go to Redington?” It took me a second to figure out where he was trying to go. “Uh, no, this way goes to Mt. Lemmon.” I explained what he had to do to go back and fix his error (we were halfway UP Mt. Lemmon at the time). This is not the first time I’ve met clueless motorists out here. “Are you OK? You going to bike all the way back?” … “Yeah, just out here enjoying a nice ride.”
I kept hauling down the Haul road, cruising at 16 mph on a slight uphill. Then came the pavement, which seemed twice as long as it should. I could see the lights of San Manuel, but they didn’t seem to get much closer. A few cars passed me, but they could see me OK.
I turned left onto Webb Road to climb back to Oracle. UGh. Now fighting a stuffy head and dribbly nose caught up to me in the form of fatigue. My body felt fine. Legs were great. But internally I was shutting down. It felt like I was trying to ride while sick. It’s not a good feeling, especially at 10pm after 2.5 hours of solo night riding. The temptation to stop was huge, but I had nowhere to go. If on the divide I would have pulled my bag/pad out and called it a night. That thought was tempting, and made the idea of solo camping more appealing to me (or less frightening).
But I soldiered on, occasionally feeling good while climbing hard out of the saddle. My eyes were losing the ability to focus (I could not, for the life of me, read my cyclometer or GPS screen). I was trying new ‘focus day and night’ contacts and I think the verdict is that I can’t use them for cycling.
The last few hills to Bbar’s place were tough. But as soon as I stopped riding I felt great. I enjoyed some nice conversation and tasty food, all while keeping Brian and Anne up too late. Eventually I hopped in the car for some midnight, none-to-safe driving back down Oracle RD. I blasted the tunes to keep my eyes open.
I’m getting closer to ready for the GDR.
54 miles, 6000 feet of climbing, 5.5 hours
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